After dinner I went into our reception room, which is not lighted unless we are expecting guests, and peered out of the window. The detective, or whoever he might be, was walking negligently up the street.
As that was the night of the third seance, I find that my record covers the fact that Mrs. Dane was housecleaning, for which reason we had not been asked to dinner, that my wife and I dined early, at six-thirty, and that it was seven o’clock when Sperry called me by telephone.
“Can you come to my office at once?” he asked. “I dare say Mrs. Johnson won’t mind going to the Dane house alone.”
“Is there anything new?”
“No. But I want to get into the Wells house again. Bring the keys.”
“They were in the overcoat. It came back today, but the keys are missing.”
“Did you lock the back door?”
“I don’t remember. No, of course not. I didn’t have the keys.”
“Then there’s a chance,” he observed, after a moment’s pause. “Anyhow, it’s worth trying. Herbert told you about the stick?”
“Yes. I never had it, Sperry.”